Carroll leaned over and took both of Marion's hands in one of his.
"It's all right," he said; "the author insists."
Wimpole waved his stick again as though it were the magic wand of the good fairy.
"You shall have it," he said. "I recall your performance in 'The New Boy' with pleasure. I take the play, and Miss Cavendish shall be cast for Nancy. We shall begin rehearsals at once. I hope you are a quick study."
"I'm letter-perfect now," laughed Marion.
Wimpole turned at the door and nodded to them. They were both so young, so eager, and so jubilant that he felt strangely old and out of it. "Good-by, then," he said.
"Good-by, sir," they both chorused. And Marion cried after him, "And thank you a thousand times."
He turned again and looked back at them, but in their rejoicing they had already forgotten him. "Bless you, my children," he said, smiling. As he was about to close the door a young girl came down the passage toward it, and as she was apparently going to Carroll's rooms, the actor left the door open behind him.
Neither Marion nor Carroll had noticed his final exit. They were both gazing at each other as though, could they find speech, they would ask if it were true.
"It's come at last, Marion," Philip said, with an uncertain voice.